


Magic Makes It Happen

by JuxtaposeFantasy



Category: Chinese Actor RPF
Genre: Bottom Wang Yi Bo, Dom/sub Undertones, Fantasy, Inspired by Pechoin "Counter-Clockwise Wheel" Commercial, M/M, Magic, Steampunk
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-21
Packaged: 2021-03-08 18:26:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,696
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27131104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JuxtaposeFantasy/pseuds/JuxtaposeFantasy
Summary: Fanfiction for Pechoin's gorgeous Counter-Clockwise Wheel steampunk mini-film.Wheel Master Jay has his eye on the apprentice Yibo, but Time can both give and take away, and not even magic can stop It.
Relationships: Wang Yi Bo/Jay Chou
Comments: 8
Kudos: 22





	Magic Makes It Happen

**Author's Note:**

> I can't believe I wrote fanfic for a commercial! To be fair, this is a mini-film and a really well done one, too. If you haven't seen Pechoin's commercial yet, please watch it first so you know what's going on [Counter-Clockwise Wheel, Version A](https://youtu.be/RnXOfgyCZ1U). Apparently there will be a B version, but I'm not waiting for it. Hopefully it doesn't screw up this fic.
> 
> Anyway, hope you like this. I had an itch for older man/Yibo, so here we go. It's a hybrid RPF-FPF since I used their real names.

The Master, or as he preferred to be called in friendly company— _Jay_ —tapped his chin thoughtfully as he watched the Counter-Clockwise Wheel complete its final rotation with both passengers safely aboard. He'd expected the girl to come back. Only a few, when given The Choice, seized it and willingly gave up their life to start over again as a youth. This young woman hadn’t struck Jay as one of those types. She was too responsible and lacked the dreamer’s personality that typified those who chose to start over. He wasn’t surprised at all that she, like most, had chosen to return to her present life, wiser and more appreciative of her age.

It was the second passenger of the Wheel that Jay had his eye on, whom he’d been watching from the start of the journey. Whom Jay always seemed to watch.

Yibo held the door of the pod and motioned for the woman to proceed him. Dressed like a young gentleman, Yibo acted the part as he helped her take her first step back in the real world.

As she did so, Jay opened a portal in his chambers that allowed him to cross the hundreds of miles to the pier where the Wheel was stationed. He waited in the ankle-deep fog and watched Yibo and the woman approach. If Yibo was surprised to see him at the launching pier, he showed no signs of it.

Yibo had always been a cipher. He had been the apprentice of the only other Wheel Master in existence until that man, Jay’s own former Master, passed away at the age of two hundred and sixty-nine. Now, only Jay and Yibo remained to harbor the knowledge of the Wheel, though there were others, the Antis, but Jay chose not to think of them tonight.

He chose to focus on Yibo, an advanced apprentice, but still not a Master. When the old one had died, Jay had waited for the call, but it had never come. Yibo had kept himself apart, driving the Counter-Clockwise Wheel as though nothing had changed. But of course, everything had. He possessed enough knowledge to be dangerous to himself and to others. He needed more guidance, but Jay couldn’t force him to take it if Yibo wasn’t interested. Yibo had earned the right to drive the Wheel and he owned the only other key in the world. If he wanted, he could continue as he was doing for as long as he chose to, or until Jay stopped him, which he wouldn’t do.

Yibo seemed content to carry on alone, yet every time the young apprentice took another rider out into the universe, into the myriad folds of Time, Jay questioned whether he would return. With nothing for Yibo in this world, why not go elsewhere? Why not go back and walk a different, less lonely path?

Tonight was no different in that Jay breathed a quiet sigh of relief to see the young man’s face again. One of these days, Jay feared he wouldn’t.

And what a pity that would be, for multiple reasons. Jay smiled politely as Yibo and the woman neared, but his eyes weren’t as polite as they could be. As they should be. It was impossible for Jay not to feel something of his own loneliness as his eyes roamed over features so exquisite they were practically doll-like. Sometimes he wondered if the old Master had used a bit of magic on Yibo. His features were otherworldly in their delicate, genderless cast. His appearance would be a gift to a mentor who had to look at it every single day of his life.

The only thing convincing Jay that Yibo was untouched by magic was the depth of Yibo’s gaze. The distance in it wasn’t exactly unfriendly, but its very breadth was a warning. Jay doubted his old master would have permitted such a vast sea to exist within a creature he’d made for personal pleasure. He would have made Yibo…amenable.

Jay mentally shook his head. He was grateful for his old master’s restraint.

“I didn’t think I’d be allowed to bring back anything that I loved,” the young woman was saying as she studied the gift box that Yibo had given to her. The box seemed greater than it was: a set of cosmetics only lightly brushed with magic, just enough to brighten the face, but not affect Time. Not truly.

Yibo only smiled indulgently at her, the same smile he’d given to hundreds of prior riders. Jay thought back, and was pleased to note that Yibo had never given that smile to _him._

The woman, cradling her box, smiled at Yibo and Jay before hurrying away, her steps buoyed by her experience with the Wheel. In twenty-four hours, she would mysteriously lose all memory of her adventure tonight and question how she’d come to own a Pechoin gift set.

That wasn’t Jay’s problem. He strolled up to Yibo. “Good job.”

“What if she had chosen to stay at twenty-three?” Yibo asked him, as he looked after the woman’s retreating figure.

Jay arched an eyebrow, curious at his interest. “You know what would have happened if she had. She would begin again at that age.”

“I’ve delivered riders to the past,” Yibo acknowledged, “but I never stuck around to see what choices they made.” His gaze lengthened. “Do they make the same choices because, in the end, they are the same people?”

His cheek was a porcelain curve. Jay thought of brushing the backs of his knuckles down it. Would he feel the coolness of a doll or the seductive warmth of life?

“Everyone is different,” Jay told him. He tucked his hands into his pockets to resist temptation. “Those who regretted not walking certain paths will seize the chance to walk them. Those who were content with how their lives unfolded will relive their lives all over again.”

“So it’s a waste of time to go back unless you hold regrets.”

For the first time, Jay heard something new in the dulcet tones of Yibo’s voice. Jay turned away. “Come to my chambers, Yibo. We’re overdue for a chat, you and I.”

Yibo dragged his attention away from the woman. His dark eyes still held their familiar distance, but they seemed warmer. Or perhaps that was only wishful thinking. 

“Master, I’m not sure—”

“I’m not your Master,” Jay said casually. “You’re not obligated by duty to join me.” He smiled. “But I would enjoy your company, Yibo. My chambers are too large to hold a single man.” He began walking. “Besides. I’ve composed a new song. I need an opinion on it. I’m aware that you have an excellent ear.”

Yibo wanted to refuse. Jay could tell, but he couldn’t tell why. All he could do was open a portal and hope for the best. The green shimmered—

—and his next footstep landed on the plush rug sitting beneath his piano. Jay flicked his smoking jacket away from his hips before taking a seat on the bench. He refused to look up until his fingers settled on the ivory keys. Only then did he raise his eyes.

Yibo gazed back impassively as the portal closed behind him.

“Thank you,” Jay murmured softly as he began to play.

“You shouldn’t thank me.”

“If I have reason to thank you I will, and I do.”

“A Master shouldn’t—”

“I’m not your Master,” Jay reminded him gently, his eyes on the keys. “Though I could be.”

The notes of his new song played for a minute before Yibo responded. “Is that why you asked me here?”

“Do you like this song, Yibo?” Jay played with a flourish, hands lifting off the keys like fluttering butterflies. “Music is a magic all its own, yet no one ever asks if people believe in it. I suppose this kind of magic is undeniable.”

“No one creates songs like you do,” Yibo murmured.

His tone was one Jay hadn’t heard from him before. He played more softly, eager to hear more of it. “Do you like my songs, Yibo?” he repeated.

Pale, elegant fingers stroked along the cover of the piano. “I love them. I—sing them to myself sometimes, when I’m—tired.”

 _Lonely,_ Jay thought, his heart pinching. _He was about to say lonely._

“What if I told you I’ve written not one, but many songs for you, Yibo?”

The pale hand jerked back. “What?”

Jay had lived too long to feel true nervousness, but the adrenaline that shot through his veins felt much like it. He looked up and met Yibo’s wide-eyed gaze.

“I wrote you this one,” Jay told him. He moved his hands and began playing a different song. “Also this one.” He shifted again, leaping lightly into a new melody. “This one, too. And there are more.” He cocked his head as he played, watching the emotions flicker across Yibo’s suddenly wildly expressive face. It was magic like Jay had never seen before. “Would that mean anything to you?”

Yibo fiddled with his bowtie, pulling it away from his throat as his Adam’s apple bobbled. “ _Should_ it mean something? I mean—” He paused, closed his eyes, and took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes again, they were the eyes of a man who had traveled unfathomable distances. “Do you want it to mean something to me, Master?”

Jay smiled. This clever, beautiful boy. “I think you should apprentice to me, Yibo. I think I have much to teach you, and I think you’re in need of a Master. You’ve done very well on your own. I’ve watched you for decades. But to go farther, you need instruction. Let me instruct you, Yibo. Allow me to guide you forward.”

He settled his fingers, allowed the last notes to linger in the air and then dissolve, their question asked, their duty fulfilled.

“I’ve been a long time without a Master,” Yibo whispered. He licked his lips and looked around Jay’s chamber but Jay doubted he saw anything that his eyes passed over.

“Do you miss it?”

Yibo averted his gaze, but the flush in his ears betrayed him. “I didn’t realize I would feel so…alone.”

Sympathy brought Jay’s gaze down, too, to his own hands, lying limp in his lap. “We are men who will live a long time. It’s not easy to traverse those years without a friend by your side.”

“What about a lover?”

It took Jay a moment to realize he hadn’t imagined the whispered question. He looked up carefully, but Yibo had turned his face in profile. Redness blazed along his cheek. He chewed on his lower lip.

“I had no idea you thought of me in that way,” Jay said slowly, placing each word like a breadcrumb on a twisting trail. At long last, after decades, he felt it: genuine nervousness. It was gold in his veins, sparkling and precious. 

“I could never tell you,” Yibo said, still unable to meet his eyes. “You’re a Master. The music you make is incredible. And you’re experienced and wise and—”

“Just a man, in the end. Yibo," he said softly, "look at me.”

Yibo had never struck him as being timid, only reserved, but Jay sensed shyness from him now as he reluctantly turned his head. With his eyes and cheeks brightened by fear and embarrassment, he was vibrant, a newly blooming flower. Yibo was hardly a boy, but in that moment he exuded youth and energy and passion, things Jay had drifted away from in his cozy jewelry box of a home. Looking at this handsome young man now, Jay realized he’d forgotten how to live.

“I want you,” Jay told him. He rose to his feet and stepped up to Yibo, who seemed rooted where he stood. “I want to teach you what I know. I want to show you what I’ve seen. I want to expand your mind and widen your world.” He was too old to be hesitant. He cupped Yibo’s face in both hands, thumbs brushing over skin that was as warm as he’d hoped. “I want you as my apprentice, Yibo. I also want you for me. To be mine.”

Yibo brushed his fingertips up the lapel of Jay’s jacket. “I’d always hoped you’d noticed me.”

“Beautiful boy, I’ve been watching you for years.”

Jay hadn’t planned for it, but the energy between him and Yibo tugged them in an unmistakable direction. Yibo offered no resistance as Jay led him to his bedroom. It was Yibo who undressed Jay first, peeling back the rich layers of an outfit no one except the occasional rider ever saw. Naked, Jay lay back on the bed pillows and held his breath with rare anticipation as Yibo took his turn to undress.

He was unlike Jay, who was darker and stockier, his skin textured with age. Yibo was a luminous candle in comparison, long and milky and compellingly smooth. As soon as the last garment fell on the floor, Jay rolled them to put this beautiful creature beneath him.

“I will teach you,” he mouthed against the skin of Yibo’s belly. “I will show you what I’ve seen,” he licked between Yibo’s thighs. “I want to expand your mind and widen your world,” he kissed into Yibo’s mouth as he entered him. “I want you for me,” he said as he began thrusting. “To be mine.”

He rode Yibo hard, because youth demanded it in clawing fingers and biting teeth. Yibo left his marks on a mature body that hadn’t known passion in decades. It was Jay who groaned with every deep push, and it was Jay who trembled when he heard Yibo whisper into his ear, “More, Master.”

Jay gave him more, bending Yibo’s long limbs to suit him, showing through touch what it really meant to be a Master. He brought Yibo to passion’s edge again and again only to skillfully guide him back. Jay soothed him, kissed his tears and gave him new reasons to moan and shiver, but he kept Yibo trapped in his orbit because he could. Because finally, this apprentice had come to him.

Yibo was a creature of tears, begging Jay for relief, by the time Jay relented and granted it to him. As Yibo shattered beneath him, filled with Jay and fully branded by him, Jay asked himself why he’d pushed so hard. Even in the aftermath, when Yibo smiled and pulled Jay down to kiss him, Jay still questioned his actions.

It was only a month later, when Yibo boarded the Counter-Clockwise Wheel with an elderly man in the first trip since Yibo had become Jay’s apprentice, that Jay understood why he’d done what he had. From his plush chamber that smelled now of Yibo and held the signs of Yibo’s cohabitation, Jay watched the Wheel intently as it cycled through the sparkling swathes of Time. 

The bells chimed. Options and possibilities were presented. The Wheel completed its rotation, and it returned to the pier. Jay opened a portal and stepped into the night, his eyes on the pod which had carried Yibo and the elderly rider.

Except the door didn’t open. The stars in the sky spun slowly. A choice had been made, a decision to walk a different road. The impressions made against tender white skin hadn’t been driven deeply enough.

Time, once a jewel, landed like a rock.

Barely able to breathe through the pain in his chest, Jay turned away from the Wheel. He opened another portal. He stepped through, the green light shimmering—

—and felt his hand caught by another’s as he stepped into his home.

Yibo tugged him around and grinned. “Sorry. I had trouble convincing him the face cream was something men could use.”

Jay blinked against moisture, preventing Yibo from seeing it. “Ah. Forget about him.” He cleared his throat, fumbling in a way unlike a Master. “Come. I’ve written you another song. I’d like you to hear it and tell me what you think.”

Yibo sighed, eyes smiling. “You know I love everything you write.”

Jay smirked. “And that’s why you’re my favorite apprentice.”


End file.
